Last Friday Night
by Vacurai78
Summary: Recipe for a Hangover: Several glasses of wine, one Princess Celestia, eighteen hours of insanity, stir until mixed. Enjoy! (This story was inspired by the PMV version of Katy Perry's Last Friday Night.)


_...dear __**Luna**__ my head hurts..._

_Gaahhhhh...I'm never going to drink again... _

I cuss. Repeatedly and rather violently. Both my mother and Princess Celestia have taught me not to swear, but I'm pretty sure that only these words can describe how horrible I feel at the moment. My heart's just run a forty-hour marathon, my eyes are experiencing spontaneous combustion, and I can tell that I'm going to upchuck sometime soon. _Dammit...why couldn't I have just stayed __**asleep**__?!_ With the strength of a two-year old filly, I feebly pull the covers over my head, preparing for an extended stay.

But the world has a funny sort of sarcasm about it; that annoying sort of sarcasm that just thrives off of making you miserable. I can hear my alarm clock going off in the background, each and every deafening chime hitting my head like a two-ton sledgehammer. My addled brain makes my magic useless, which means the only way to turn off the accursed thing is to get up and walk across the room. I didn't think I could manage to do that without vomiting all over my hooves, but if I had to listen to that stupid noise any longer, I would die.

..._Alright, I'm sorry stomach, but I have to get up and go kill my clock. Please try to stay_ inside_ of me on the way there._ Eyes still closed, I gingerly stick a hoof out from under the blankets and search for the ground. It doesn't seem to be where it usually is; in fact, all I can feel are books, articles of clothing, and more books. "Spiiiiiike," I moan, "Spiiike, I can't find the floor..." He doesn't answer, of course, because he's in Canterlot taking a "Better Asisstant's Course for Dragons," which my brain hasn't registered until moments later. _Stupid, stupid brain! I blame you for _all_ of this!_

And suddenly, for no apparent reason, the alarm clock shuts off. My right hoof stops flailing wildly as I attempt to process this new information, which either means that I forgot to wind it all the way or that someone else is in the r-

The covers are ripped off of me, flung to the side like a used napkin. In an attempt to defend against the horrible sunlight, two lavender hooves move to my face, partly obscuring the view of a pink party pony. "P-Pinkie?" I stutter. "What the_ fuck._..?"

She giggelsnorts. "Yeah, that's what you said last night!" I'm in too much pain at the moment to analyze this statement, so I simply let it drop and focus more attention on how I'm dying. Pinkie seems to take no notice of me doubling over and preparing to sign a will, instead barreling on to the next topic. "Anyways, it's time to get up, Mr. Grumpy-Mc-Sleepyhead...um...Pants! We made you pancackes in the shape of a book!"

_'We?' Oh, Celestia, what happened last night?! Just how much did I have to drink?_ These and other charming thoughts run through my head as I slowly open one eye, pushing past the burning sensation and trying to get a glimpse of my immediate surroundings.

I get a glimpse of my immediate surroundings.

"Holy fuck! What in Celestia's name happened here?! Did we get hit by a tornado or something?" My other eye shoots open, and in my incredulity I forget to scream in pain. Every single book I own is scattered across the floor, intermingling with underwear, sleeping bags, spare change, bags of hay chips, cans of 'Zapple' Soda, half of a torn sock, piles of confetti, a decorative lawn flamingo, broken shot glasses, a disposable camera, party hats, lingerie, glitter, sunglasses and everything else under the sun that constitues a massive party. There's even a few ponies passed out in the refuse, but none of them are immediately recognizable.

Pinkie Pie grins from ear to ear. "We didn't get hit by a tornado. We got hit by A PARTY!" She starts bouncing up and down with extreme happiness, almost jumping high enough to touch the ceiling. "Now come on, Twilight! We're not quite done celebrating your twenty-first birthday yet!" Still bursting with joy, the pink party pony waltzes out of the room.

_My twenty-first birthday...? That was yesterday?_ I have no way of knowing if that's true or not. My memories of yesterday are a complete and utter jumble, threatening to overwhelm me with their ambiguity. The only way to find out what happened was to get up, an action I am dreading in the pit of my stomach.

Then I feel my belly rumble, and I clamp a hoof to my mouth in hopes that the puke will stay contained. _Gotta get to the bathroom __**now**__ gotta go gotta go!_ I vault off the bed and dash towards the bathroom, trampling both refuse and pony in my haste to not barf on the floor. When I get there, I don't even take time to knock, instead bashing in the door and throwing myself in front of the toilet.

_-Ten HURK-Filled Minutes Later-_

Trembling, I reach up and wipe my mouth. My stomach feels better, except for the fact that both it and my throat are being scalded from the inside out. I down some tap water to get rid of the taste of 'euurrgh' in my mouth, then flush the latrine and look at myself in the mirror. A purple, sickly looking unicorn stares back at me, her mane disheveled and her eyes all puffy, with a brownish, reddish mark on her neck. I can't decide if it's a hickie or a bruise, so I ignore it and canter outside.

Pinkie Pie is waiting for me, but she doesn't look so good. Her expression is a cross between sympathy, disgust, and terror. _I can't possibly look _that_ bad,_ I think. "You feeling okay, Twi? That sounded...well, 'yuck'."

"It was, Pinkie. It was. But I feel better now."

Her happy grin returns. "Oh, goody! Now you have more room for those pancakes!" With a tremendous bounce, Pinkie propels herself down the hall and into the kitchen, where I'm assuming I'll get yet another rude surprise.

And I'm right, too. The display of dirty plates, splattered counters, and flour-covered bowls do not faze me nearly as much as the appearances of Princess Celestia, Trixie, and a very tired looking Applejack. The three of them-four, counting Pinkie Pie-are seated around my kitchen table, eating from a plate stacked high with book-shaped pancakes. Everypony looks up when I enter, except for Pinkie who is currently stuffing her face with pancakes.

"Ah, yes. Good morning, Twilight Sparkle." The Princess motions for me to sit in the remaining empty chair, pushing the plate of doughy novels in my direction. "How are you feeling?"

My speechlessness is cured all of a sudden. "Uh, well, I guess I've been better...Princess. So far, today has been rather interesting." I glance around the table, staring at my unwarranted visitors. "If you don't mind me asking, Princess...what in Equestria happened last night?"

The alicorn takes a brief moment to sigh, putting down her utensils. "Many things, Twilight. Many things. I regret most of them, and I'm sure you would too."

Before I can respond, Trixie butts in, plancing a hoof on her chest. "Well, I don't regret a thing! Not one! The Great and Powerful Trixie regrets nothing!"

Applejack lets out a dry chuckle, head in hoof. "I do. Twi, no offense meant here, but please don't invite me to any more of your parties. Ah've had enough fun for an entire lifetime, and I mean that when I say it."

For several moments, silence reigns supreme in the room. The pancackes look somewhat unappetizing at the moment, so I push them back towards Princess Celestia. "That's all very interesting," I say, "but I still don't know what happened. My memories are gone."

I open my mouth to speak, but all of a sudden, I find that I am hesitant to answer._ Do I really want to know what happened yesterday?_ says a little part of my mind._ From the sound of things, everypony in here regrets something they did last night. That probably means that I regret something too._

_Yes, you do,_ says the rest of my brain. _You're going to have to find out sooner or later, or you'll go insane from curiosity._

"Yes," I say.

Princess Celestia stands up and canters around to my side of the table. "Very well, Twilight Sparkle." Her horn begins to glow with a brilliant yellow light, and her features look more careworn and loving than usual. "Try not to hate me too much once your flashback is over, Twi."

I start to say, "Princess, I could never hate you," but before the first syllable comes out of my mouth, Celestia touches her horn to mine. Psychedelic rainbows dart across my vision, accompanied by the sound of a chorus of angel ponies who are pouring golden nectar down from heaven onto my head.

And suddenly, I remember.


End file.
